Evening All

As the seasons change and winter breathes its last gasp; almost unnoticed on Kirkgate (Ripon's shambles) appear those brightly coloured harbingers of spring: the police van. Litter swirls in their wake and settles back onto the deserted street. It is early Friday evening. No-one is about to witness their arrival save a few hardened drinkers in the Royal Oak, the odd Hopperesque diner and Harbinger, wobbling back to the rank from an evening of prayer and contemplation.

The local Plod heave themselves out of their stripy cocoons and swarm down urine scented alleyways, then all is quiet; what could they be searching for at this time of the evening and who is so dangerous that he requires three vans to bring him in; is it a drugs raid, or are they searching for the elusive crooner and Ripon Mare Andrew (Andy) Williams?  Williams, as you will know by now has been arrested, allegedly in connection with the disappearance of public funds (nicking dosh) and yet he's still holding on to his shiny chain.

 You'd think, wouldn't you, that given the furore surrounding his arrest he would have immediately handed over the chains of office and stepped down from all public engagements but no! You can't get rid of (Andy) that easily. As the plod waddle up the wrong alley, Teflon (Andy) is no doubt cowering in the bushes awaiting the moment to slither back into the council chamber wearing an oleaginous smirk and the contents of his 'Mare's Dressing Up Box'. Imagine for a moment if you will, that (Andy) is innocent of the charge; that he is as pure in thought and deed as a new-born lamb gambolling in a Spring meadow: would it still not be the right thing to do to protect the office of Ripon Mare he professes to hold in such high esteem? As it is, he has not only tarnished the position by association with the charge, but also made it an object of derision. STEP DOWN NOW (Andy) limit the damage and do us all a favour.

Nothing Wrong With A Good Old Fashioned Bit Of GBH', says local plod

You'll be relieved to hear that the Ripon Plod are in full support of violence and Anti Social Behaviour in our local fightclub; Harbinger's interview with Inspector Plod of Ripon constabulary:

  'ASB 'appens in every town in the country', Insp Plod tells me, 'and there's no reason why Ripon can't 'ave its fair share. 'If we stay well clear of the Matrix, especially at kicking out time it means we can sit in the station an' drink coffee an' play Monopoly an' not have to do writin' an' stuff like that. We might even have a mini Brixton or Toxteth which would be great 'cause I might get in the paper an' stuff, there used to get a lot of moaning from shopkeepers around the Matrix about blood on the street and vomit and wee wee, but now they've all closed down so it's great! We can drive around in our police cars and not have to get out, and then there's the road sweeper - he'd have nothing to do on a Sunday morning if he wasn't sweeping up sick and broken glass an' stuff, an' nurses at the hospital need to practice bandaging an' fightin' off drunk people who want to get at their knickers, so you see we 'ave what we in the force call a win win situation, which means that we win and then, err, we win again.

The Big Fight

As reported in the Ripon Gazette, the big fight this week was a light heavyweight contest between in the red corner, the Unbelievably Reverend, John Packer, Bishop of Ripon & Leeds, known to his followers simply as 'The Bish' and in the blue corner, the peoples favourite, local MP and heavily manicured, Julian 'Smiffy' Smith.  At the weigh-in 'The Bish' appeared out of shape, mixing his metaphors and even beginning a sentence with a preposition; whereas 'Smiffy' looked every inch the champ: 'I'm all over it' he said, 'The Bish is outclassed, I'll 'ave 'im in the fifth'.

'You can go to hell', shouted 'The Bish' and threw a limp left hook which almost knocked over a glass of holy water. The pair had to be separated in what, it has to be said, was an unseemly and ill-disiplined fracas.

Trouble at the weigh-in

The Pun had caught up with 'The Bish's' trainer earlier in the week and asked what special coaching he had done:
'It's not about trainin' see?' Said God, It's about diet; of course he has the lamb of God but added to that I've got my boy eating lots of fish on a Friday see, it's BRAIN food and there's no doubt that in the end he shall overcome'.

The fight began tentatively with 'The Bish' attempting to Lord it over the commoner 'Smiffy' but even in the first couple of rounds it soon became clear that 'The Bish's' arguments weren't going to stand up for long. 'The introduction of the welfare Cap is morally wrong,' he spluttered 'in fact I'm against ALL forms of contraception for those on benefits -  after all, where would the church be without poor people to bully guide?'

There was a bit of tussling on the ropes and a few low blows were exchanged but in the end 'Smiffy's' argument that the feckless should work and think for themselves  carried the biggest punch and ahead of prediction 'The Bish' went down in the third. 'Get up,' screamed trainer God from the corner, 'smite him like I showed ya, SMITE HIM'. In truth it never looked like he was going to get up again despite promises from God about a bigger house and the Bishopric of Bath & Wells.

A jubilant 'Smiffy' said afterwards 'I knew we was on a winner - e didn't train ard enough and e was never going to stay the distance - e put too much faith in a diet of fish - it's The Cod Delusion see?'

Smiffy celebrates his win

Polish attack victim admits 'My head got in the way'.

So the latest (reported) violence at 'Ripon's only nightclub' has hit the pages of the Harrogate Gazette. The victim of the 'totally unprovoked attack' was described as male, Polish (serves him right then!), wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans, had a broken nose, a couple of black eyes and blood all over the front of his shirt.......The attackers were described as 'white & young'!!! Keep an eye out for them folks; they sound distinctive.

Nightclub owner, Christopher Ian's son said: 'They were all having a lovely time bless them, so I sold them another couple of alco poppy drinks each at almost no profit to myself'.

"The Barracks are Closing, The Barracks are Closing!"

As someone so appositely observed recently: 'Ripon has long needed (and deserves) a kick up the arse'. Those of us on its periphery have watched it sliding slowly and inevitably into decline - shops closing at an alarming rate and morale plummeting. We have councillors too timid, stupid or self serving to realise that change is the only way forward, that doing nothing for many years has brought us to the dire situation we are in, yet fear of change has infected Ripon like a disease; it is a town wallowing in the 1950s.

Yes, we can sit back and blame Harrogate for the mess we're in and of course HBC is creaming off all funding and feathering their already opulent nest, you only had to witness their dazzling display of Christmas lights, compared to Ripon's four light bulbs and a cracker to realise that.  But what is the point in having a Ripon council at all if they do not have the insight, intelligence or eloquence to ensure Ripon gets its fair share, and indeed, now that it has slumped so far, MORE than its share? But most importantly, Ripon must be prepared to move forward and embrace change.

So what, if the army is pulling out? Ripon will no longer be a garrison town; GOOD! Does Richmond look more prosperous than Northallerton? And who in their right mind would wish to spend any more time than absolutely necessary in Catterick? The army's presence has done little to improve the quality of life in this town and it certainly hasn't saved it from economic collapse so perhaps their departure is the very kick up the arse it needs; it may even be the catalyst for regeneration - out with the old, in with the new.

So a fond farewell to the boys - missing you already!